


Everything

by fandomshere_fandomsthere



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Frottage, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Pokemon GO - Freeform, Porn with Feelings, tiny tiny tiny bit of implied tythan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-08-31 02:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8559472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomshere_fandomsthere/pseuds/fandomshere_fandomsthere
Summary: Jack was Mark's everything. And at some point, Mark had been Jack's.





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so how the format of this is going to go! Everything before the horizontal line is in the past, and everything after is in the present!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! <3

            Mark sat on a bench in the busy park, staring down at his phone. A warm breeze ruffled his hair, and the sunshine made him have to squint at his phone screen in order to see it. A few children splashed in the glittering water of the fountain that marked the dead center of the park, no more than ten feet away from him. Mark smiled at their laughter and excited squeals. Normally on a day like this, he’d be cooped up in his house playing video games or scrolling through Twitter and hardly seeing the light of day. Lately, though, he’d gotten outside a lot more.

            He loved Pokémon Go.

            Mark let out an excited whoop and punched the air in triumph as he defeated the last pokémon of the gym—which was the fountain in front of him—and took it for his team. The gym, formerly red, turned yellow with a jolteon spinning slowly at the top, electricity crackling around its tail. Mark felt a little surge of pride. Instinct hardly had any gyms in his neighborhood, and on top of that, he’d leveled up his jolteon as much as he could. He’d spent so many hours catching _so many_ eevees—

            A notification popped up on Mark’s phone a minute later. His eyes widened. There was no way. How had someone taken the gym already? He tapped on the now blue gym and glared at the avatar of the gym thief, BooperDooper. _BooperDooper?_ Seriously? Mark rolled his eyes and healed his jolteon, ready to take on the new gym leader’s pokémon. Which was a magikarp. Mark rolled his eyes again but smiled. He easily reclaimed the gym only to have it snatched up again a few minutes later, the magikarp still guarding it. This went on for another half an hour, and Mark was starting to get frustrated. He looked up from his phone, scanning the area around the fountain for his rival.

            On the other side of the fountain, directly across from Mark, he saw someone grinning at him. The stranger was wearing a black form fitting t-shirt, dark jeans, and green shoes to match his hair. He pushed his glasses up his nose and wiggled his phone at Mark. Mark looked down at the screen and saw the gym change to blue once more. His eyes widened when he saw a dragonite spinning at the top. Tim, his jolteon, was his pride and joy, but there was no way he’d be able to beat a dragonite with CP that high. Mark looked back up at BooperDooper, whose grin had grown even larger. He draped both arms over the back of the bench and crossed his legs, foot on top of his knee. Mark shook his head and pocketed his phone, hoping the other man couldn’t see him blushing from across the circle of hedges that surrounded the fountain.

            He felt a pair of eyes on him as he stood. Mark was hesitating. He could either go for a walk by himself like he’d planned earlier today, or he could go chat up the man who he’d fought over a gym with for forty-five minutes. He was a few clefairies short of evolving his strongest one, and there was one nearby. Mark glanced over at BooperDooper, who was on his phone, scrolling without stopping to look at anything. The foot on his knee was bouncing up and down. He pressed on the bridge of his glasses despite the fact that they were perfectly in place. Mark steeled himself and walked over, plopping himself down next to the other man with his arms crossed. BooperDooper jumped, dropping his phone on to his lap.

            “Jesus fuck,” he gasped. Mark took note of his Irish accent.

            “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

            “I thought you left,” BooperDooper said as he picked up his phone. “Scared you off with my superior pokémon, or somethin’.”

            “Nope,” Mark said. “But if you had a fucking dragonite, why did you keep putting magikarps in it?”

            “To fuck with you,” BooperDooper replied with a grin. He laughed at Mark’s unamused expression and held out his hand. “I’m Jack.”

            “Mark,” Mark said, his smile matching Jack’s.

            “I couldn’t have guessed that from your username, Markimoo.”

            “It’s better than yours. BooperDooper? Where did that come from?”

            Jack scratched his bearded chin. “It’s an inside joke. I’d tell you the story, but it’s really long and doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

            “I’ve got time,” Mark offered. “Besides, I think I saw a clefairy nearby.” Jack beamed, his blue eyes shining.

* * *

 

            Mark heard the front door of the apartment open and close, announcing Jack’s arrival home. His keys clanked against the wall and the tinny sound of metal on metal could be heard as he hung up his keys. He always used the peg on the far right while Mark used the one on the left, the middle left empty so they didn’t mix things up. Jack kicked off his shoes and shuffled around. Mark heard the freezer open and the silverware drawer clatter as Jack yanked it open. That drawer always stuck, so they had to use extra force to open it. Mark guessed his roommate was going to crack open the new pint of cookie dough ice cream. He left his room to stand in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. He let his eyes travel down Jack’s curves, still visible through his blue hoodie.

            “Are you going to save any for me?” Mark asked. Jack jumped.

            “Jesus Mark, stop scarin’ me like that!” the Irishman said, and Mark laughed.

            “Sorry,” he chuckled. “You’re just funny when you get scared.”

            “I’m going to buy a shit ton of mannequins and fill your room with them while you’re asleep.”

            Mark narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

            Jack flashed him a grin from over his shoulder as he walked into the living room, two spoons and the ice cream in hand. “Try me, Fischbach.”

            Mark shook his head and flopped down next to Jack on the couch, plucking a spoon from the other man’s hand and digging into the ice cream while Jack flipped through the channels. Jack smacked his spoon against Mark’s when he went in for another bite.

            “I haven’t had any yet, ye greedy bastard,” he said. He took a massive spoonful and stuffed it in his mouth, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster’s.

            “Yeah, _I’m_ the greedy one,” Mark teased. Jack nodded and Mark took another bite of ice cream. “So how was your day?”

            Jack took a moment to answer, talking around the ice cream and cold metal in his mouth. “It was alright. Same old shit at work like usual.” He swallowed and hesitated. “I did meet someone though.”

            “Oh?” Mark looked up at Jack. He was looking at the television but not really watching it, the ghost of a smile on his face. His heart lurched.

            “Yeah,” Jack said.

            “Do tell,” Mark pressed.

            “Not much to tell,” Jack said with a shrug. “Her name was Signe. I bumped into her on the way out of Starbucks and dropped my coffee and she offered to buy me a new one. Which she did. And uh…” He blushed faintly, his cheeks dusted with pink, one hand on the back of his neck, scratching awkwardly.

            “Did you get her number or anything?” Mark asked.

            “Yeah, actually,” Jack said. He was fully smiling now, his teeth perfectly white, his eyes alight. “She’s really nice. Pretty too.”

            Mark choked down another spoonful of ice cream to force down the bile rising in his throat. He smiled at Jack. “That’s great. I hope it works out.”

            “Well, there’s nothing exactly there to work out yet, but…thanks Mark. That means a lot.” He turned his hundred-watt smile to Mark, and the older man’s breath hitched slightly. He simply nodded, his small smile still on his lips, and Jack turned his gaze back to the television. They chatted as Jack flipped through the channels some more until they found a show to watch and a comfortable silence fell. Mark hardly paid attention to what was going on. All he could think about was Jack and Signe.


	2. Kiss Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like before, before the line=past and after it=present :)

            Mark looked at himself in the mirror self-consciously, running a hand through his red hair and tugging at the sleeves of his white button down. He left them at his wrists at first and stared at them for five minutes before rolling them up to his elbows. He stared again and rolled them back down. He did this three times before settling on having them rolled up and put on a dark grey vest to match his pants, his dark red tie providing a nice splash of color on his monochromatic outfit. Mark debated on wearing his glasses or his contacts, but decided on his glasses. Jack liked it when he wore his glasses anyway. He said they drew attention to Mark’s big brown eyes.

            Thinking about Jack made his heart race. Mark was nervous as all hell. He had no reason to be—he and Jack had gone on dates before. In fact, this was their fifth. They’d been dating for a month. After they’d met through Pokémon Go, they’d exchanged numbers and texted nearly non-stop. Jack had been the one to make the first move and ask Mark if he wanted to get coffee some time, and Mark had had to stop himself from saying “yes” immediately in all caps with ten million exclamation points. Since then, they’d hung out a lot and gone on actual dates. Mark wanted tonight to be special, however.

            They hadn’t kissed yet. Jack made Mark nervous in the best way possible. He desperately wanted to kiss him, had wanted to kiss him since the first time those big blue eyes had looked at him with twinkles in their depths, but something always got in the way. Mark got nervous, someone called one of them, one of them had to be somewhere important—frankly, Mark was sick of it. He was sick of looking at Jack’s lips when he wasn’t looking and wondering what they would feel like against his. So he’d suggested to Jack that they go to dinner that Friday, and Jack had agreed.

            Mark, the sap that he knew he was, wanted it to be special and romantic. He’d found a little Italian place downtown that was fancier than normal, but nothing too extreme. His mind wandered to Jack, what he was planning to wear tonight, and how it would no doubt look good on him. Mark cleared his throat and looked at his watch. It was five-thirty, and he’d told Jack he was going to pick him up at six. He gave himself one last once-over in the mirror before grabbing his keys and leaving his apartment.

            He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel at every red light, going through the vague plan he’d made in his head over and over again. Step one: ask Jack out to a nice dinner was complete. Now the only steps that remained were two and three: have a fantastic date and kiss Jack at some point during the evening. Step two wouldn’t be a problem at all; they always had great dates. It was step three that Mark was worried about.

            Loose stones on the pavement crunched underneath Mark’s tires as he pulled in front of Jack’s apartment building. The elevator ride up seemed longer than usual. Mark forced himself to calm down. He knocked on Jack’s door, chuckling as he heard a thud followed by a loud curse. Jack had probably just tripped. Hurried footsteps made their way to the door before Jack opened it, and Mark’s eyes widened slightly.

            Jack seemed to know that black was a good color on him. It provided a beautiful contrast to his pale skin and made his subtle curves that much more noticeable. He was wearing a black button down and black slacks. The only thing he was wearing that wasn’t black was his light blue tie, a shade that made his eyes pop.

            “Your carriage awaits, my dear,” Mark said in a smooth, deep voice, bowing and extending his arm. He desperately hoped Jack didn’t notice how flustered he was.

            “Why thank you, sir,” Jack replied in a high pitched voice, playing along with Mark’s antics. He looped their arms together and they headed down to Mark’s car. All of his nervousness had melted away, replaced with affection for his boyfriend.

            Their date went smoothly. The restaurant had excellent service and even better food. Mark and Jack stuffed themselves full of breadsticks and pasta and still found room for dessert. Neither of them had had cannoli before, and once they bit into it, they agreed that they hadn’t truly lived until that moment. They chatted and laughed, and while Jack was just a _little_ too loud for the small space, no one seemed to mind. Mark made a mental note that they should come there more often. After dessert, the check came, and Mark snatched it up before Jack could even reach for it. They gave their server a generous tip and left the restaurant hand in hand, feeling full and content.

            “That was really nice, Mark,” Jack said on the way back to the parking garage a few blocks away.

            “It really was,” Mark said.

            “Thank you,” the Irishman said softly, rubbing Mark’s knuckles with his thumb.

            _Now. Do it now,_ Mark thought. He stopped by a lamp post and turned to face Jack, still holding one of his hands, the other cupping his jaw. Jack looked up at him with his eyebrows raised and a faint blush on his cheeks. Mark smiled softly and brushed a lock of green hair out of blue eyes that reflected the stars. Jack positively glowed in the light of the lamp post.

            “Anything for you, Jack,” Mark murmured. His thumb brushed Jack’s cheekbone as he leaned forward, eyes closing. Mark felt Jack’s breath ghost across his face before their lips connected, Jack’s arms around his neck, one hand carding through his red hair. It was slow and sweet, and Mark wanted nothing more than to exist forever in that moment.

* * *

 

            Mark tried to hate Signe. He really did. But he just couldn’t. She was too sweet, too funny, too beautiful. On top of all that, she made Jack happy. The Irishman always radiated warmth when she was around. Warmth from his smile. Warmth from his eyes. Warmth from the kisses he’d leave on her cheeks. Warmth from his laugh. It warmed Mark’s heart to see Jack so happy, but it hurt that he wasn’t the reason for it.

            _He used to look at me like that._

That was the only thought that could pass through Mark’s mind when he caught Jack looking at Signe, his eyes full of affection and his smile soft. Mark always ignored that thought, pushing it back into the furthest depths of his mind, back with the rest of his jealousy and his hurt. That part of his consciousness had started getting crowded. He always listened to Jack talk about Signe, because that’s what best friends did. And that’s what they were. Best friends. Nothing more.

            Mark came home one day, armed with Chinese take out, to see Jack laying spread-eagled on the couch, staring at the ceiling and smiling like an idiot. He didn’t take notice of Mark coming in, even when he made a racket in the kitchen, so Mark went into the living room and stood over Jack, looking down at him and tapping his forehead.

            “Top ‘o the mornin’ to ya,” Mark said in an exaggerated Irish accent.

            “Asshole,” Jack said dreamily.

            “So you _are_ alive,” Mark said. “I thought you died on the couch or something.”

            “Nope, I’m alive,” Jack said, sitting up. He inhaled deeply through his nose. “Chinese?”

            “Yep,” Mark confirmed. “Now what’s got you staring at the ceiling like that?”

            Jack hesitated. He flicked his gaze up and down Mark’s form, as if evaluating him before saying, “Signe kissed me.”

            Mark’s throat tightened and his stomach clenched, but he smiled. “That’s great!” Jack’s posture relaxed. It was such a small change that most people would never notice it, but Mark knew Jack. He knew him so much it hurt.

            “Yeah,” Jack agreed, grinning. His grin faded a bit, and his eyes went distant. “I...I really like her, Mark.” He bit his lip and looked up at his friend, worry clouding his eyes. Mark continued to smile reassuringly.

            “And from what I can tell, she really likes you too,” Mark said.

            Jack’s expression grew hopeful. “You think so?”

            Mark laughed. “You sound like a teenager!”

            “Maybe I feel like a teenager!”

            “Should I expect to hear you blasting My Chemical Romance in your room and rebelling by getting piercings and sneaking out late at night?” Mark teased.

            “Shut up!” Jack laughed, swatting Mark’s arm.

            “What about all the hormones? Are you gonna jack off constantly now?” Mark continued, prodding at Jack as they walked into the kitchen.

            “Dude, gross!” Jack said, swatting Mark’s hands away. Mark ceased his teasing with a chuckle as they got their dinners situated and sat down on the floor in front of the couch, their food on the coffee table, Game of Thrones on the television. They chatted and made fun of the stupid commercials, and everything was normal—except for the fact that Mark’s stomach felt like a ball of lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's still a little unclear, what's going on here is that Mark and Jack had a relationship in the past, but something happened and now they're no longer together. On top of that, Jack's getting together with Signe.
> 
> I want to make it clear that I have no dislike for Signe at all. She is a beautiful human being, inside and out, and I adore her :)


	3. I Love You

            “Mark I swear to fuckin’ Christ—”

            “This’ll teach you, you blanket hogger.”

            “I’ll make you sleep on the couch for a week!”

            “Worth it!” Mark pressed the B button on the Wii remote, sending a blue shell flying in front of him. Jack let out a shout and Mark giggled while Yoshi floundered on screen after taking the hit. Several karts zipped past him, including Waluigi, who Mark was controlling. Jack had gone from first place to seventh in one move—and on the last lap too.

            “I fuckin’ hate ya Mark!” Jack shouted, his accent growing thicker with his frustration.

            _I love you too,_ Mark almost said, but choked on his tongue. He opted for a triumphant laugh instead as he expertly maneuvered his kart past the others, obtaining first place easily. He won the race at the last second, neck and neck with Princess Peach. Jack finished in fifth.

            “Victory! Hell yeah!” Mark yelled, throwing his arms in the air. “The work of a professional!”

            “Dumb luck is more like it!” Jack laughed, prodding Mark in the side with his remote. Mark’s arms shot down and wrapped around his torso while he looked at Jack with wide eyes. Jack grinned darkly and put his remote down on the couch.

            “Don’t you dare,” Mark warned, scooching backwards.

            “Are you ticklish Mark?” Jack said in a low voice.

            “No of course not!” Mark said quickly, his voice a little higher pitched than normal.

            “This’ll teach you, you first place thief,” Jack said, putting his own twist on Mark’s earlier words.

            “Jack—” Mark stopped short with an undignified squeak as Jack lunged forward and wormed his hands under the other man’s arms. Jack’s fingers danced along Mark’s sides and he squirmed, biting his lip. He was determined not to make more noise, not to give Jack the satisfaction. Jack continued, his grin growing as the shade of Mark’s face grew steadily closer to the shade of his hair.

            “Go on and laugh, Marky Mark,” Jack whispered into Mark’s ear, leaning over him. “You know you want to.”

            “Sh-shut up!” Mark choked, his smile tight.

            “Top of the mornin’ to ya laddies,” Jack breathed into Mark’s ear as quietly as he could.

            That did it. Mark lost it, all of his contained laughter coming out in a loud bark, followed by giggles that Jack was drawing from him with the tips of his fingers. Jack sat back up, grinning, and Mark glared at him through his laughter.

            “Say uncle!” Jack said.

            “Never!” Mark gasped. He surged upwards, brushing the tips of his fingers against Jack’s armpits. Jack yelped and drew his arms up, his face pink. Mark grinned devilishly.

            They launched into a tickle fight, giggles and playful shouts of “no!” along with insults, curses, and threats filling the apartment. By the end of it, they were both red-faced and breathless, laying on the couch, Mark’s head resting on Jack’s chest, moving with it as it heaved. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Mark’s hand found Jack’s, close to the Irishman’s head on the couch, and they laced their fingers together. Jack traced circles into the back of Mark’s hand like he always did, and Mark smiled at the familiar movement. He looked up at his boyfriend, a lazy smile on his features.

            “So who won?” Mark asked.

            “I did, duh,” Jack replied, poking Mark’s nose.

            “I think _I_ did,” Mark countered.

            “There’s only one way to settle this then.”

            Mark raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

            “It’ll be a little competition. To win, you have to get the other person to kiss you.”

            “No fair,” Mark whined. “I always want to kiss you.”

            “If you do, I’ll win,” Jack said smugly.

            Mark pouted. “Two out of three?”

            “Hmmm…”

            “Please?” Mark cupped Jack’s cheek in his hand, stroking it with his thumb, catching the other man’s bottom lip. Jack blushed wildly at the contact.

            “How about we get a freebie?” he suggested. “Like, right now.” Mark smiled and kissed him, thumb still brushing his cheek. Jack smiled into the kiss. His absurdly long eyelashes tickled Mark’s face. They pulled away after a long moment.

            “Freebie spent,” Mark said, pressing a kiss to Jack’s nose and then another to his forehead. “Oh shit, did those count?”

            “I’ll let it slide, but I’ve got my eye on you,” Jack said. “Now get off of me, I can’t breathe.” Mark huffed dramatically and rolled off of Jack and on to the floor.

            “Do you still feel like playing Mario Kart?” he asked.

            “Not really,” Jack admitted. “Wanna just watch something stupid on TV?”

            “Sounds good,” Mark said. He got off of the floor and back on to the couch, sitting next to Jack. It had started to get dark outside, but neither of them cared enough to stand up and turn on the lights. They channel surfed until they found a marathon of America’s Funniest Home Videos and settled into the couch to laugh at people being stupid.

            After the second episode, Mark felt his attention being drawn away from the screen. He and Jack both hissed as a man on the screen was hit in the balls with a bowling ball as his son prepared to throw it. Mark looked over at Jack, who had his face screwed up in empathy. He crossed his legs tighter underneath him. The unpleasant expression on his face soon melted away as something funny came on the screen, accompanied by witty commentary from the host and laughter from the audience. The light of the television screen cast shadows on Jack’s face that accentuated his cheekbones and his smile, and Mark felt his breath hitch as a laugh bubbled from Jack’s lips. He looked so happy, so content. Mark smiled softly, not caring that Jack had probably noticed him staring.

            “God, I love you,” Mark sighed without thinking. His eyes widened a bit as Jack stiffened, snapping his head to the side. His blue eyes seemed to pierce Mark’s soul.

            “You what?” Jack said in a whisper.

            “I…” Mark swallowed. He’d already said it, and he meant it, and Jack had clearly heard it. “I love you.” He fell back on to the arm of the couch as Jack lunged at him, wrapping his arms around his torso.

            “You mean it?” Jack said. “You’re not just saying this to get me to kiss you are you?”

            “What? Jesus Jack, no,” Mark said in a rush. “Of course I mean it. I love you.” He was smiling now, eyes soft and warm, fingers running through Jack’s hair. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while actually. I just didn’t know if it was too soon. We’ve only been together for a few months and—”

            “We _live_ together, you arse,” Jack said, smiling. His eyes were glassy and his voice was thick. “I love you too.”

            Jack closed the gap between their lips. This kiss was sloppier than their usual ones, but Mark didn’t care. He felt tears on his cheeks, and he didn’t know if they were Jack’s or his own. Jack strayed from Mark’s lips to his jaw and then his neck. Mark shivered at the feeling of Jack’s beard scratching the sensitive skin of his throat. Jack trailed slow kisses upwards, going past Mark’s lips and kissing his forehead.

            “I love you Mark,” Jack whispered into his hair. “So much.”

            “I love you Jack,” Mark returned. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s smaller frame, holding him close. “So much.” Jack hummed in content and tucked his head under Mark’s jaw.

            “I won, by the way,” Mark murmured.

            “Yeah,” Jack said. He took one of Mark’s hands and guided it to his chest, splaying the other man’s fingers directly over his heart. His blue eyes looked almost grey in the light of the television. “You really did.”

* * *

 

            Mark looked at the clock. Jack and Signe had left for their date about two hours ago. They were spending more and more time with each other lately. Mark was happy for them—really, he was. At the same time, he was jealous, which was only natural, considering the history he had with Jack. He sighed and looked at the empty spot next to him on the couch. Jack sat in it so often that the cushion had started to form to the shape of his ass.

            He knew it was selfish, but a small, petty part of him wished Jack had never met Signe. Things would have been so much easier. At least Jack would be there with him. Mark wouldn’t be left in the empty apartment on a Friday night. Alone. He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Wade and Bob were states away, Arin and Dan were busy, and Felix and Marzia were on a date that night. They were always on a date on Friday. Mark opted to scroll through Tumblr rather than wallowing in his own self-pity, and it worked as a distraction. Before he knew it, his eyes were itchy with sleep and aching from staring at a screen for so long. He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. Just as he was going into his room, the front door opened.

            “Oh, the lights are off. I think Mark is asleep,” Jack said.

            “Don’t wake him up with that loud voice of yours,” Signe said, a bit more quietly than Jack.

            “Hey!” he said at a volume that was borderline shouting. Signe giggled, and Jack let out a huff. Mark smiled from behind his cracked door.

            “Anyway,” Jack said. “I really did have a great time. I always do with you.” Mark could hear the smile in his voice.

            “Me too,” Signe agreed. Mark didn’t know why he was listening. There was a brief silence as they kissed.

            “…Jack?” Signe said, voice breathy.

            “I love you,” Jack said. Mark felt like he’d taken a punch to the gut.

            He knew Jack loved Signe. He’d known it for a few weeks—he talked about her almost endlessly, was always texting her, and had about a million pictures of her on his phone, not including the selfies they’d taken together. Hearing him say it out loud made it really hurt, though. And the voice he used—it was that voice, that voice that Mark thought he’d be the only one to ever hear, the one that made Jack’s words soft and low and full of emotion. He hadn’t heard that voice in more than a year. At least it wasn’t _that_ voice, he reasoned. He didn’t have to hear Jack talk to anyone in _that_ voice ever again, the one that begged, that teased, the voice whose words sent sparks of pleasure straight to Mark’s cock every time without fail.

            Mark didn’t have to hear Signe’s response to know what it was. He closed his door silently, not wanting to intrude on their private moment more than he already had. He knew he should be happy for Jack, happy that Jack was happy, or at least hurt that Jack really _had_ moved on, but he didn’t feel anything at the moment. He felt hollowed and tired. He would let himself feel nothing for tonight. But in the morning, he’d be happy for Jack if he shared what had happened. He’d smile and give Jack a firm pat on the shoulder and tell him how happy he was for him. And it wouldn’t be a lie in the morning.

            But tonight it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, the second part of this was really short ;^; I hope it's alright!


	4. You're Not Listening

            Mark couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy. He and Jack were going to get an apartment together. It wasn’t like they hadn’t lived together before—Jack had moved into Mark’s apartment two months ago. But _this…_ this would be their own. Mark could tell that Jack still felt a little awkward living somewhere Mark had been for the past two years. It always took a little time to adjust to a new environment. This time, though, they’d be doing it together.

            Finding a new place to live proved to be more difficult than Mark remembered. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that he had to take someone else’s needs into account as well as his own. He wasn’t complaining. Visiting apartments with Jack had been exhilarating; he could picture them almost everywhere they went. It didn’t matter how big the kitchen was as long as he could hug Jack from behind as he made coffee. It didn’t matter how big the bedroom was as long as he got to wake up next to Jack every morning and hold him at night. As long as Mark had four walls, a roof, and his boyfriend, he’d be happy.

            Their current apartment was full of boxes, some of which Jack had never unpacked from his initial move. They were due to move at the end of the week. It was a little off-putting to have most of their things in boxes. Everything seemed so blank without their little knickknacks, but they made it work. Mark crossed the days off of his calendar, counting down to moving day, which was circled in red marker with a little house drawn in the square.

            Jack seemed on edge. Mark didn’t blame him; moving was stressful, and this would be the second time his boyfriend was doing it in two months. Mark tried to ease Jack’s tension by being extra affectionate, always cuddling up to him when they sat on the couch and giving him surprise kisses. It seemed to work, to an extent. As moving day approached, Jack grew more and more uneasy.

            “Hey, are you okay?” Mark asked two days before moving day.

            “’m fine,” Jack replied stiffly, not looking up from his book. Mark folded his arms on the back of the couch and rested his chin on them.

            “You’ve been on the same page for ten minutes.”

            Jack said nothing.

            “Baby, please. Talk to me.”

            Jack sighed and closed his book, not bothering to mark the page, and looked up at Mark. “I’m scared Mark.”

            “Scared?” Mark echoed. “Of what?”

            Jack pushed his glasses up his nose. “Livin’ together.”

            “Jack…” Mark sat next to him and took his hand. “We’ve been living together for two months.”

            “This is different! This isn’t just me coming and living here, this is a big step! It’s a big commitment. What if we’re not ready for it? We’ve only been together for six months. Wh-what if we’re movin’ too fast?” Jack was rambling, his words running together. “This could be a mistake.”

            That last sentence stung. Mark slipped his hand out of Jack’s. “You think this was a mistake?”

            “I’m just sayin’ it could be!” Jack said. He opened his mouth to say something else but closed it with an audible click when he saw the look on Mark’s face.

            “Oh, no, Mark, I didn’t mean—fuck, that wasn’t—”

            Mark wasn’t listening. His vision was beginning to blur with tears. “Right. Okay. Sure.”

            “Fuck, Mark, you’re not _listenin’_ to me,” Jack said, voice sharp with frustration.

            “I think I heard you well enough,” Mark snapped, internally wincing at the way Jack recoiled. He stood up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He strode over to the door, grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair, and slammed the door behind him, cutting off Jack’s cry of his name.

            Mark took the stairs down, anger and hurt burning too close to the surface for him to stand still. A few stray tears leaked out of his eyes, burning hot in the cool air of the stairwell. His footsteps echoed against the concrete walls, the sound rattling in his head until it was almost deafening. He needed fresh air. It was too much.

            Mark burst out of the apartment building into the cold winter air, shivering. It whipped into his nose and through his head, clearing it. His breath puffed out into clouds in front of him. The air smelled like snow. Mark thought about the weather rather than what had just happened. It almost never snowed in Los Angeles. People were most likely huddled in their homes around heaters, shivering and waiting for the apocalypse. He’d grown up in Cincinnati, where snow wasn’t uncommon, so he wasn’t worried. Jack was probably used to it too, having grown up in Ireland.

            Tears stung at Mark’s eyes again, and this time, he let them fall. Part of him knew that Jack hadn’t meant their relationship was a mistake, but the mere thought of it still hurt. Everything about this hurt. They’d had their squabbles and disagreements, but nothing like this. Neither of them had gotten angry enough. Neither of them had made the other person cry before. Mark sighed. All of this over a stupid poor choice of words. All of this because Jack was nervous.

            Jack was nervous. About them not being ready to take the next step. And Mark had left him alone in the apartment.

            God, he was an ass.

            Mark glanced at his watch as he waited for the elevator. He’d been gone for half an hour. That wasn’t terribly long, but if he was in Jack’s place, it would be long enough to make him worry. He dashed into the elevator and slammed on the button to close the doors until they slammed shut painfully slowly. The elevator crawled upwards, and Mark paced, running his hands through his hair. He should have taken the stairs. He rushed out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened enough for him to squeeze through and fumbled in his jacket pocket for his keys in case the door was locked. Mercifully, it wasn’t.

            Mark stopped himself from barging in like a madman and took a deep breath, his fingers wrapped around the handle of the door. He opened it slowly, listening for Jack. No sound met his ears. The floor creaked under his Mark’s feet as he hung up his jacket and shuffled into the living room. Jack was laying on the couch, facing the back of it, curled into a ball with his face buried in a pillow that he was clutching tightly to his chest.

            “Jack?” Mark said softly. He laid his hand on the Irishman’s shoulder. Jack picked his head up from the pillow but didn’t turn over. Mark sighed and knelt down on the floro.

            “I’m sorry,” he murmured as he rubbed circles between Jack’s shoulder blades. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that. I’m an asshole.”

            “No you’re not,” Jack muttered. He rolled over, and Mark’s heart broke when he saw his boyfriend’s red, puffy eyes and runny nose. His glasses had been discarded on the coffee table. “But please don’t do that again. I—” His lip quivered. “I didn’t know if ye were comin’ back.”

            Mark wrapped his arms around Jack, holding on for dear life. The smaller man was trembling, his fingers fumbling at the fabric of Mark’s shirt before clenching it in his fists. Jack took a shuddering breath, obviously holding back tears. Mark kept his own at bay by squeezing his eyes shut. They sat like that, Jack curled into Mark’s chest and Mark hunched over awkwardly, for a long while. Mark’s back hurt, but he didn’t care.

            “We’re not perfect, Mark,” Jack said, voice thick. “That’s why I’m scared. I don’t want us to get sick of each other. Movin’ is a bitch, and with both of us stressed out—”

            “Shhh, baby,” Mark soothed. “I’m not going to get sick of you. Yeah, we’ll probably be stressed, but we’ll work through it. We love each other.”

            “Yeah,” Jack whispered.

            “Sit up,” Mark said. Jack sat up and Mark got on the couch, opening his arms. Jack crawled into Mark’s lap and wrapped his arms around his torso. Mark held him gently, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

            “I’m sorry,” Jack whispered.

            “Me too,” Mark said. He pressed a kiss to the top of Jack’s head. “I should have listened to you. I will from now on. I promise.”

            “Promise me you’ll never leave again.” Jack’s voice was shaking.

            “I promise,” Mark whispered into Jack’s hair. “I love you Jackaboy.”

            Jack huffed out a weak laugh. “I love you too Markimoo.”

* * *

            Mark slammed his car door shut, stretching as he clambered out of it. His spine popped a few times and he groaned in satisfaction. The car’s horn honked as the doors were locked. Mark pocketed his keys and took the stairs to the ground floor of the parking garage that was attached to his and Jack’s apartment building. He was looking forward to putting on pajama pants and flopping down on the couch with a book. Work had been long, monotonous, and draining. Maybe he’d take a nap before reading. He let his mind wander as he waited for the elevator. Maybe he could convince Jack to get a pizza. Then again, they were having stir fry tonight…

            Mark went on autopilot, letting his feet carry him up to the apartment while he planned out how to get his roommate to give in to his idea for dinner.

            “Signe, I _told_ you—”

            Mark’s hand froze, hanging in the air, halfway between the door and his side. He could hear Jack pacing.

            “I know, Jack. But you don’t understand.”

            Mark had never heard Signe’s voice be so loud. So harsh.

            “What don’t I understand? What _exactly?_ Mark’s my friend! I’m not goin’ anywhere!”

            “How would you feel if I was living with one of _my_ exes?!”

            “That was over a year ago! It’s over, it’s in the past! You know that! I’m _tellin’_ you, nothin’s going on!”

            “You don’t see the way he looks at you!”

            Mark’s heart stopped. Jack’s pacing stopped. Everything stopped.

            “Signe…babe…please don’t cry.”

            “He still loves you, Jack. I can see it.”

            “You’re just worried. We’re best friends. That’s all. I promise.”

            Signe let out a sob. “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t be. It’s okay. Come here.”

            There was a brief silence, broken only by Signe’s short gasps, which were barely audible through the door.

            “You know I don’t have anything against him, right?”

            “I know.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Shhh.”

            “I love you.”

            “I love you too.”

            Mark couldn’t listen anymore. He’d been there too long as it was. He crept down the hallway and got in the elevator. He sat on a bench in the lobby, waiting for Signe to come down. She did almost an hour later, her eyes red around the rims and her cheeks blotchy. She jumped when she saw Mark, who was still on the bench, playing a game on his phone. He looked up.

            “Hey Signe,” he greeted.

            “Hi Mark,” she said. She shuffled her feet awkwardly, running a lock of hair between her thumb and index finger.

            “Everything okay?” Mark asked.

            “Yeah,” Signe answered. “Did—did you hear?”

            “Well,” Mark said, drawing the word out. “Sort of. I didn’t really hear what you were saying, but I heard you arguing, so I came down here instead of eavesdropping.” The last part wasn’t a lie.

            Signe flushed. “I’m so sorry! It was stupid—nothing that should have kept you from coming home—”

            “Hey, hey, it’s fine,” Mark said. “Stupid shit happens and couples fight. No worries.” He hoped his smile was reassuring. The corners of Signe’s mouth twitched up.

            “Right,” she said. “Yeah. You’re right. Thanks Mark.” He nodded, and she glanced at the door.

            He got the hint. “Have a good night.”

            “You too. See you later Mark.”

            “See you.”

            Signe scurried out the door and Mark stood up. When he walked into the apartment, Jack was sitting on the couch, staring at the coffee table. He looked up when Mark walked in.

            “Hey,” Jack said, his voice hoarse.

            “Hey,” Mark replied. “I ran into Signe downstairs.”

            Jack winced. “So you heard?”

            “Not what it was about,” Mark said. “As long as everything’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it. It’s your business."

            Jack nodded. “Yeah. Everything’s okay.”

            Mark smiled slightly and held up his phone. “Pizza? We can get Domino’s and a few of those lava cakes you like.”

            Jack grinned. “Sounds fuckin’ awesome."

            Later, when they were on the couch with empty plates on the coffee table and a movie on the television, Jack bumped Mark’s knee with his own.

            “Thanks,” he murmured.

            Mark smiled in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mark keeps dropping eaves everywhere. Jesus.
> 
> I'll be bumping up the rating when I post the next chapter. :3c


	5. Close as You Can Get

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your warning for explicit content :3c
> 
> Holy shit. Sorry this took so long. It got a LOT longer than I was expecting it to! I hope it's not too drawn out.

            Lips and hands. Skin, hot breaths, shuddering bodies. That was Mark’s reality. His mind was blank—all he knew was that he wanted Jack to roll his hips forward again—yes, _God,_ just like that. They were on their bed, still fully clothed below the waist, Jack in Mark’s lap, grinding against him like a horny teenager, his breath coming in pants, his face redder than Mark had ever seen it. Christmas colors, Mark observed with amusement as he took in the green of Jack’s disheveled hair accompanied by the lovely crimson that graced his cheeks. And God, Jack would make the perfect Christmas present.

            “Ah, fuck,” Jack whimpered, stilling his hips and leaning forward with his head down, his hands gripping Mark’s shoulders. “Mark…”

            “Tell me what you need, baby,” Mark said huskily as he ran his hands up and down Jack’s waist.

            “I need—” Jack could hardly get the words out, biting his lip as his back arched at Mark’s feather-light touches. “I need _you,_ Mark. Please.”

            Mark cupped Jack’s jaw in his hand, searching his eyes for any hesitation. They hadn’t had sex yet, but they’d gotten close. There had been quite a few situations like this one, but they’d always stopped for whatever reason.

            “You’re sure?” Mark said softly.

            “Yes, God,” Jack said. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me since I met you.”

            Mark flushed. “You’re so sentimental.”

            Jack grinned. “Well, you can’t blame me too much. You’re the one who always wears tight fuckin’ jeans that show off your ass.”

            “And you’re the one who always wears tight shirts that show off your curves. Not to mention those low-rise jeans that show off your hips.” Mark squeezed Jack’s hips for good measure, earning a small groan.

            “Only ‘cause you like it,” Jack said, eyes half-lidded, fingertips digging into Mark’s shoulders.

            “I really do,” Mark agreed with a purr, nuzzling Jack’s neck with his nose.

            “Stop teasin’,” Jack groaned. He let out a small gasp when Mark did as he asked, pressing slow, wet, open-mouthed kisses to Jack’s neck. He shivered when Mark’s teeth nipped at his flesh.

            The feeling of Jack shivering on top of him was almost too much. Mark groaned as Jack raked his blunt nails down Mark’s chest, the sound vibrating through the Irishman’s skin. Mark’s jeans felt too tight and too warm. He was so warm and his heart was beating so fast, adrenaline and pleasure coursing through his veins. His hands fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. He needed to feel Jack’s skin on his own. He needed to be as close to the other man as possible. Jack mirrored Mark’s movements, tugging his own jeans down his thighs and kicking them the rest of the way off.

            “You’re beautiful,” Mark breathed when their clothes were discarded on the floor. He gripped Jack’s thighs, pressing his thumbs into them, resisting the urge to kiss every inch of Jack’s porcelain skin.

            “Speak for yourself,” Jack murmured. Mark shivered at the feeling of Jack’s fingers pressing into his biceps and slowly dragging down his arms. “God, you’re fuckin’ ripped.”

            “Like what you see then?” Mark pulled a goofy face and flexed, drawing a laugh from Jack.

            “You’re such a doof,” Jack chuckled.

            “But I’m _your_ doof,” Mark said.

            “Yeah. You are,” Jack said, his eyes soft. He leaned forward and kissed Mark gently, his movements slow, his thumbs rubbing circles into Mark’s abdomen. Mark returned the kiss, his head spinning. Jack could always make him flustered with the gentlest touches.

            The kiss grew heated as Mark swept his tongue over Jack’s bottom lip, shoving it inside with other man’s mouth as he gasped. Jack moaned quietly into Mark’s mouth before reciprocating and moving his hips once more. His movements were rougher and more deliberate this time. Mark’s hips bucked upwards of their own accord, sparks of arousal shooting up and down his spine and into his cock. He gripped Jack’s hips with one hand to still them and palmed the Irishman through his boxers with the other.

            A shudder wracked Jack’s entire body, and he broke away from the kiss, panting. His gaze locked with Mark’s, and Mark stroked him again. Jack cursed under his breath and rested his forehead on Mark’s shoulder as he ground against the other man’s hand. Mark hooked one finger in the elastic of Jack’s boxers, pulling it back and letting it snap against Jack’s skin.

            “Shit, just take ‘em off,” Jack said.

            “Take what off?” Mark purred. The snap of elastic was heard once more, accompanied by a yelp.

            “Don’t make me beg,” Jack panted.

            “Maybe I want you to beg.” The low tone of Mark’s voice made Jack swallow thickly.

            Blue eyes blown black with arousal met brown. “Please Mark. Please touch me. I want you to fuck me open with your fingers and pound me into the mattress.”

            Mark sucked in a breath. “How can I say no to that?”

            They shifted so Jack was laying on his back, Mark kneeling between his legs. The last layer of clothing that separated them was discarded on the floor. A red mark had formed on Jack’s hip where the elastic had made contact. Mark ran his thumb over the flushed skin before pressing his lips to it. Jack whimpered, squirming. Mark chuckled and pressed kisses into Jack’s skin, slowly making his way to the Irishman’s cock.

            “Jesus _Christ,”_ Jack moaned as Mark licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft.

            “You’re so noisy,” Mark murmured.

            “You love it.”

            “True.”

            Mark wrapped his lips around the head of Jack’s cock, drawing out another moan, louder and more highly pitched than the last. Mark swirled his tongue around the tip before taking more into his mouth, drinking in the delicious noises tumbling from Jack’s lips. Curses, gasps, moans, Mark’s name, and shuddering breaths were Mark’s symphony, playing the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. A steady crescendo built as Mark moved his way down Jack’s length, hitting its peak when the tip brushed the back of his throat. Jack moaned, long and loud. His hips stuttered upwards, making Mark gag a little.

            “Sorry,” Jack panted. “But holy shit Mark.” Mark hummed, sending vibrations through Jack’s dick. Jack whimpered, a breathless _fuck_ escaping his lips.

            Mark moved his head up slowly, noticing the way Jack’s back arched and how his trembling fingers clutched at the sheets. His breath came in gasps and his body trembled. He let out a sharp cry when Mark’s tongue dragged across the tip of his dick. Mark wanted to commit every sound and movement to memory. He felt Jack tense and tasted the salty tang of precome.

            “Mark,” Jack whimpered. “Mark I’m gonna come.” Mark slid off of Jack’s dick with a wet pop. Jack whined.

            “Not yet baby,” Mark murmured. He caressed Jack’s flushed cheeks with his knuckles. “Just a little longer okay?” Jack nodded, his breathing too labored for him to speak. Mark’s cock twitched.

            He leaned over to his night stand and opened the drawers, pulling out a small bottle of lube. The cap flipped open with a click and Mark put a generous amount on his fingers. Using his forearm, he nudged Jack’s legs farther apart and traced the ring of muscle with one slick finger, the lubrication cold against Jack’s heated skin. Jack sucked in a breath.

            “Mark,” Jack begged. “Mark please.”

            Mark worked one finger in up to the knuckle, shuddering at the way Jack clenched around him. The Irishman squirmed, eyes screwed shut and bottom lip between his teeth. Mark watched his face contort in pleasure as his finger slid in and out and bit back a groan as he added another finger. Jack’s thighs were trembling, sheets clenched in one fist and the other in his mouth, teeth digging into the flesh of his knuckles.

            “Let me hear you, Jack,” Mark said as a strangled moan gurgled in the back of Jack’s throat.

            “I-I’m so fuckin’ _loud_ though,” Jack panted.

            “I know.” Mark curled his fingers, stroking Jack’s prostate. “But I love it, remember?”

            “Do—Jesus fuck—do you really? Ye weren’t just playin’ along?”

            “Yes, really.” Mark stroked that sweet spot again. “Let me hear you. Please.”

            “Okay,” Jack breathed. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back into the pillows. Mark stroked his prostate again, and he keened.

            “Mark, Mark, stop, wait,” Jack practically sobbed.

            Mark immediately slid his fingers out and leaned over Jack, brushing sweaty green locks off his boyfriend’s forehead with his clean hand, wiping the other on the sheets. “What’s wrong? Do you want to stop?”

            “No,” Jack said. “Jesus, no.” He looked directly into Mark’s eyes, his gaze heated.

            “I want to come with you inside of me.”

            Mark’s cock twitched, and he probably could have come right then and there. Instead he swallowed and attempted to shape his face into a sexy expression rather than a flustered one, but judging by Jack’s smirk, it wasn’t working. Mark kissed Jack’s forehead, smiling at his little giggle. He retrieved a condom from the night stand and rolled it on before positioning himself, the tip of his cock prodding at Jack’s entrance. His cock throbbed, and he had to resist the urge to shove himself in all at once.

            They both groaned when Mark pushed inside. Mark’s head swam—the heat was almost overwhelming. At Jack’s insistence (begging), he began to move in and out slowly, letting out a low moan. Jack’s fingernails dug into his shoulder blades. His mind went blank, all thoughts leaving to make room for the pleasure. Jack wrapped his legs around Mark’s waist, drawing him in deeper. Jack whined and raked his fingernails down Mark’s back, a growl rumbling deep in Mark’s throat.

            “Fuck, Jack,” Mark hissed into Jack’s ear. “God, you’re—you feel so—you feel so fucking _good.”_

            “Mark,” Jack panted. “M-Mark, I—” The end of his sentence was cut off by a gasp.

            “Are you close baby?”

            Jack nodded. “I’m close. I’m so fuckin’ close.”

            “Come for me Jack. Can you do that for me?” Mark could feel Jack trembling.

            Jack tightened his legs around Mark’s waist and came with a shout, thick white ropes splattering on both of their stomachs. Mark sank his teeth into Jack’s shoulder as he came, his thrusts erratic and his vision whiting out for a second. When he came down from his high, he was collapsed on top of Jack. Both of them were breathing heavily. Mark pressed a kiss to the faint imprint his teeth had left on Jack’s shoulder and pulled out of him with a grunt, tying off the condom and tossing it in a nearby garbage can.

            Jack grimaced at the feeling of cum drying on his skin. “Do we have any tissues in here?”

            “Nope,” Mark said.

            Jack groaned. “I’m too tired to take a shower.”

            “We can worry about it in the morning,” Mark said.

            “Alright,” Jack said. He and Mark got under the covers, facing each other. Jack ran his fingers through Mark’s hair, a smile on his face.

            “I love you,” Mark whispered.

            “I love you too,” Jack whispered back.

            Mark smiled, his heart warm and full as he wrapped Jack in his arms.

* * *

 

            “How do I look?” Jack asked Mark. Mark looked up from his laptop. Jack was standing in the doorway of Mark’s room, hands in his pockets. He was wearing a dark green sweater with a white collared shirt underneath and black jeans. He’d chosen to wear his glasses too, the black frames drawing attention to his blue eyes. He turned in a slow circle, and Mark let his gaze rake down the other man’s form slowly, snapping his eyes back up when Jack faced him again.

            “Nice,” Mark said with a grin.

            “Thanks,” Jack said.

            “Trying to get laid tonight?” Mark teased, looking back at his screen.

            “W-well, uh, actually…” Mark looked up again to see Jack looking at the ground with a sheepish smile and pink cheeks.

            “Oh. Do you, uh, want me to head out for the night?”

            “No, no, that’s fine! I don’t want to kick you out. Besides, if we do…you know, we’ll go to her place.”

            “You sure?”

            “Yeah, yeah. But thanks.”

            _Makes sense that you wouldn’t want to fuck your girlfriend in our old bed,_ Mark thought.

            He smiled. “Well, have fun. See you later…or not.”

            Jack blushed and let out a nervous little laugh. “Yeah. Later Mark.” The door slammed, and Mark was left alone.

            ~*~*~*~

            Mark tried not to think about it.

            He tried not to think about his first time with Jack. He tried not to think about how beautiful Jack’s face was when he orgasmed. He tried not to think about the sounds Jack made when they had sex. He tried not to think about the marks they left on each other’s skin, the scratches down their backs and the bruises on their necks. He tried not to think about how Jack screamed his name. He tried not to think about how they always held each other, covered in sweat and whispering _I love you_ over and over like they’d never be able to say it again.

            Mark suppose that there _had_ been a time that he’d never be able to say it again to Jack, and that he was on the other side of that time.

            Mark definitely didn’t get overwhelmed by those memories. He definitely didn’t masturbate to those memories and come harder than he had in months, Jack’s name pouring from his lips in sobs. He definitely didn’t go to the store just to buy a pint of his favorite ice cream. He definitely didn’t eat half of it while marathoning Gilmore Girls on Netflix. He definitely didn’t imagine Jack moaning Signe’s name and his stomach definitely didn’t twist into knots at the thought. He definitely didn’t glance at the clock constantly.

            Midnight hit. Jack wasn’t home.

            One in the morning. Still no Jack.

            Two in the morning.

            Mark turned the television off and put the ice cream in the freezer. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He put on his favorite pair of pajama pants, the red flannel worn soft against his skin. He flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling for an hour before leaving and laying on the couch. He laid there for another fifteen minutes before wandering down the hall. His room was on the right. Jack’s was on the left. He went left.

            He’d been in this room since they’d broken up. He and Jack were still best friends, so of course he had. But as he stood in the doorway, it occurred to Mark that he hadn’t been in Jack’s— _their_ —room alone since the morning of that day. It didn’t look much different. Jack still didn’t make the bed—something that had irked him endlessly. Mark guessed that a few things he didn’t recognize were Signe’s. He didn’t bother to take a closer look. He laid down on the bed instead. It was so much more comfortable than his own. It smelled like Jack. So did the sheets. Everything smelled like Jack. Jack overwhelmed his senses.

            Mark wished he could drink himself stupid. He wished he could do something, _anything_ to make the ache in his chest stop. He wished that tears would stop prickling at his eyes and that he could just be _happy._ Happy for Jack. Jack deserved all the happiness in the world. Mark hadn’t been able to give that to him, but Signe had. Mark wanted to be able to hear about her relationship with Jack without jealousy bubbling inside him and making him feel vaguely sick. He’d been doing better. He’d spent plenty of time with the two of them since Signe spent so much time at the apartment, and the sight of them together didn’t bother him in the slightest anymore. He was getting better. He was moving on. But then this had happened.

            Sniffles filled the otherwise still air as Mark began to cry quietly. He cursed himself inwardly and squeezed his eyes shut, grabbing one of the pillows and holding it tightly to his chest. Where had it all gone wrong? Could he have done anything or would it have been delaying the inevitable? He buried his face in the pillow and was assaulted by the scent of Jack’s shampoo. Mark let out a sob and curled in on himself, wrapped up in unfamiliar sheets but surrounded by painfully vivid memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for taking so long to update. And I'm sorry that the second parts are so short compared to the first ;^;


	6. The End of an Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay you guys. Holy fucking shit.  
> I am so, so sorry that this took so FUCKING long to finish. I had writer's block for a few months. I wanted to be sure I finished this once I'd gotten over that--it deserved a good ending. If anyone is still here, reading this, thank you so much. Thank you for sticking with me. I hope you enjoy. <3

            Mark scanned the display case filled with glittering jewels that ranged from the clearest diamonds to the reddest rubies. Nothing in particular caught his eye. Everything was too flashy, too ornate, or too feminine. He glanced over to another display case. He’d checked that one earlier.  He’d looked at every damn piece of jewelry in this damn place, but nothing seemed right. There were no happy mediums; it seemed that he had to choose between a plain band and something completely encrusted with diamonds. Mark huffed a small sigh, the glass fogging.

            “Can I help you find something sir?”

            Mark looked up to see a tall woman in a black dress with long hair smiling at him, a clipboard in her hands.

            “You’ve been here for almost an hour,” the sales associate continued. “Does anything catch your eye?”

            “No, honestly,” Mark admitted, straightening and shoving his hands in his back pockets. “I mean, all of these are beautiful, but none of them are perfect.”

            “I can help you with that,” the associate said. “We have a service that allows you to design a custom ring.”

            Mark grinned. “That’d be great! Thanks, uh…” He glanced at her name tag. “Annalise.”

            “My pleasure,” Annalise said. She led him to the back of the store, where there were a few desks with touchscreen computers on them. Images of engagement rings faded in and out on the screens, as well as the occasional photograph of a man on one knee, a woman beaming down at him.

            “So this lets you make anything?” Mark asked as he sat down.

            Annalise tapped away at the screen. “Pretty much. There are a ton of bands and setting and gemstones to choose from. Whatever you make, I’m sure your girlfriend will love it.”

            Mark rubbed the back of his neck. “Boyfriend, actually.” That mistake had happened many times over the past few years, but it still bugged him.

            “Oh!” Annalise gasped, eyes wide. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have assumed.”

            “It’s alright,” Mark reassured. “Happens all the time.”

            He and Annalise spent the next hour creating a ring for Jack. Mark pulled up a few pictures of his boyfriend to compare sapphire colors to his eyes. He blushed when the sale associate said that they were cute together and mumbled his thanks while she laughed. They made typical small talk, and Mark talked about Jack. He always gushed about his boyfriend to anyone who would listen. Even after two years, he was still hopelessly in love.

            Mark left the jewelry store with butterflies in his stomach. His ring would be ready in two weeks. He’d chosen a silver band braided into a Celtic knot. A single diamond was flanked by small sapphires on either side. The sapphires were almost the exact color of Jack’s eyes. Annalise had approved of the design and wished him luck with his proposal, throwing in a reminder that they could get wedding bands at the same store.

            Mark’s mind raced the whole way home. Two weeks. Two more weeks he had to wait to ask the absolute love of his life to marry him. It seemed like a long time, but in reality it wasn’t. He needed to come up with a plan. He needed to think of what he wanted to say. Not that he hadn’t been thinking about it for the past month, of course. At this point, Mark was considering just asking Jack to marry him over breakfast. Unfortunately, Mark was a sap. He wanted to be traditional and romantic.

            The door slammed behind him as he swept into the apartment and into their room across the hall from their bedroom that served as an office of sorts. Mark sat down at his desk and pulled a notebook out of the top drawer. Jack wouldn’t be home for a while, so he decided to take advantage of his alone time and try to connect his thoughts into something coherent.

            By the time Mark heard Jack’s key turning in the lock, he’d filled six pages in his notebook, only to cross out most of it. There were a few chunks of words highlighted, circled, and marked with stars. Mark’s work looked vaguely like a football play combined with a corrected essay. He stuffed the notebook back in the drawers and opened his laptop, scrolling through a random subreddit. Jack popped his head in, and Mark turned to look over his shoulder.

            “Hey,” Jack said.

            “Hey,” Mark echoed. He rolled over in his chair to Jack, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and smiling up at him.

            Jack smiled and slicked Mark’s hair back with his hand, continuing to run his fingers through it. “How was your day?”

            Mark hummed and closed his eyes, resting the side of his head on his boyfriend’s stomach. “Good. Missed you.”

            Jack chuckled. “I missed you too.”

            “What about you? Did you have a good idea?”

            “It was alright I guess. It was really long.”

            Mark hummed again and ran his hands up and down Jack’s back. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

            Jack hesitated. “I think I want to lay down actually. I kind of have a headache.”

            “Okay baby. Let me know if you need anything,” Mark said.

            “I will,” Jack said. He moved to pull himself out of Mark’s arms, but Mark held fast.

            “Don’t I get a kiss?” he pouted.

            “Oh! Duh,” Jack said. He leaned down and kissed Mark, smiling into it as Mark pinched his ass.

            “Damn pervert,” Jack murmured against Mark’s lips.

            “Guilty as charged.” Mark gave him another peck before rolling back to his desk. Jack lingered at the door for a moment before heading across the hall, the door clicking closed behind him.

~*~*~*~

            Two weeks later, as Mark was lacing on his shoes, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He gave his laces one last tug and pulled his phone out of his pocket. An unknown number had sent him a text. He tapped on the notification and read the text. His heart jumped into his throat. The ring was ready. Luckily enough, Mark already had an excuse to go out; he was going grocery shopping.

            “Anything you want from the store?” he asked Jack as he grabbed his keys off his peg.

            “Cookie dough ice cream?” Jack said from his place on the couch. He was wrapped up in a blanket, only his head and hands sticking out as he played a game on his phone.

            Mark grinned. “Way ahead of you. See you later.”

            “Drive safe,” Jack said.

            “Love you,” Mark called.

            “Love you too.”

            Mark left the apartment with a huge grin on his face. He walked with a spring in his step, choosing to take the stairs in order to provide an outlet for his nervous energy. The ring was ready. He could finally propose to Jack. They were going to get married. There was no way he’d say no.

            …Right?

            Mark felt a prickle of fear low in his stomach as he started his car. He stared blankly at the cement column in front of him at the parking garage. Jack rejecting his proposal was never something that had crossed his mind. Why would it? They were in love. They’d been in love for two years. Surely marriage was the next step. Then a house. A dog. A golden retriever preferably. Kids too, some time far in the future. Mark shook his head and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He was worrying too much. Then again…

            Jack had been acting…odd. More closed off. He was quieter than before (which was still a little louder than usual for most people) and seemed to be staring into space more often than not. Mark had asked him about it, but he always got the same answer: Jack was tired, Jack felt like he was coming down with something. To his credit, he did seem like he was sick. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and looked even paler than usual. It was like he was worried about something. He was getting better, though. Just in case, Mark picked up some cold medicine from the store along with ingredients for chicken noodle soup (Mark’s mom’s recipe).

            The grocery trip seemed to take mere minutes; it went by in a blur of milk and eggs and canned goods, a low rumble of chatter serving as the background noise. The drive to the jewelry store passed with similar speed. Mark stood in front of the polished glass doors and stared at the glittering gems and glinting metals in the display case. Somewhere in there was a ring that rivaled all the rest. It was perfect. It was for Jack. Mark took a deep breath and pushed the doors open.

            Annalise found him quickly, a huge grin stretched across her face and a small black box in her hands, her pink manicured nails tapping on the surface absentmindedly. She placed the box in Mark’s hands without a word and raised her hands to her lips, palms pressed together as he opened it.

            Mark drew in a short breath. The ring was more than perfect. It glittered up at him from the dark green velvet it sat on. All of the tightness in his stomach melted away, and he looked up at Annalise with a smile.

            “It’s perfect,” he whispered. “He’s going to love it.”

            “He will,” Annalise agreed. “Congratulations in advance.”

            Mark laughed and pocketed the engagement rings, giddiness bubbling in his chest. He thanked the sales associate and scurried out the door, his heart and mind racing. The drive home went by in a blink. He rode the elevator, laden down with too many bags of groceries, the plastic handles digging into his palms. Mark didn’t even notice.

~*~*~*~

            That weekend, Mark took Jack on a date. They went to the same restaurant they’d gone to on the night of their first kiss. Mark had it all planned out. He’d called the restaurant and told them he was planning to propose. The owner had spouted congratulations immediately and rattled off suggestions on ways to make the night more romantic. In the end, he has promised to set up a private table for Mark and Jack, complete with candle light and a bottle of wine on the house, not to mention an unlimited number of cannoli. The owner was a sucker for romance—particularly engagements.

            After dinner, they’d go for a short walk. When they reached the lamp post they’d first kissed under, Mark would stop. He would turn to face Jack, the fingers on both of their hands tangled together. Mark would smile and kiss Jack’s fingers. He’d hold one of Jack’s hands in both of his as he sank down to one knee. Jack’s eyes would widen, and Mark would recite the speech he’s gone over in his head a million times before pulling out the ring. After Jack said yes, Mark would slip the ring on Jack’s left hand and kiss him, both of their smiles too wide for their faces. And from that moment on, Mark would be living in paradise.

            Mark’s proposal speech flew through his head as he held the door of the restaurant open for Jack. He could see the lamp post down the street.

            _Breathe,_ Mark thought. _Just breathe._

            “God, I’m stuffed,” Jack groaned, patting his stomach. “I’m never eating another cannoli in my life.”

            “Then why’d you bring four of them home?” Mark teased, holding up the paper bag which held leftover cannoli and what was left of the wine.

            “Shut up,” Jack said, lightly punching Mark’s arm. Mark laughed and reached for his hand. Jack’s fingers twitched away at the contact, but after a split second he twined their fingers together. His grip was a little looser than normal. Mark frowned a bit but shrugged it off.

            His heartbeat picked up with each step that brought them closer to the lamp post. He stopped one they stood at the base of it, turning to face Jack, who looked up at him curiously. Mark smiled warmly. Jack still took his breath away with his blue eyes and green hair that always managed to find its way into his eyes. Mark moved to brush it back on to Jack’s forehead, and the other man stiffened. Mark’s hand hung in the air before lowering slowly back to his side. Jack bit his lip and looked at the ground, picking at the end of one of his sleeves.

            “Are you okay?” Mark asked after a brief silence.

            “Yeah, I—” Jack cut himself off with a sigh. “No, actually. I’m…I’m really not.”

            Mark normally would have stroked Jack’s cheek, but with how he’d been reacting to contact, he decided against it. “What’s wrong?”

            “Everythin’,” Jack whispered. Mark’s stomach clenched with unease.

            “What do you mean?”

            Jack sighed. “Everythin’s wrong, Mark. This dinner was so fuckin’ nice and you’re as handsome and lovin’ as ever and I—I’m not—” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I don’t feel _anythin’._ ”

            “You…don’t feel—?”

            “It’s not you!” Jack cut Mark off, his words rushed. “It’s got nothin’ to do with you. I just haven’t felt the way I used to.”

            _It’s not you, it’s me._

            “Are you breaking up with me?” Mark asked in a whisper.

            “I…” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I am.”

            _No._

“Jack…J-Jack, please.” Mark’s voice was shaking. “Couldn’t—couldn’t we try—”

            “I’ve _been_ tryin’. For the past month.”

            Mark’s throat and mouth were dry. His eyes burned. His gut was cold and hot at the same time, a twisting, writhing mess. The ring was an enormous weight threatening to rip a hole in his pocket. He took a shaky breath before speaking again.

            “We could start over. We— _Jack—_ please, I—I love you, I—” Words refused to come. They jumbles and strung together in Mark’s mouth before they died altogether, sticking in his throat and giving way to tears. Everything went blurry, and his breath hitched with every inhale. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. His shaking fingers scrabbled at Jack’s sleeves.

            “Jack—” Mark hated the way his voice cracked. Mark hated the way Jack’s hand came to rest on his own. Gentle and delicate, but without the usual feeling behind it. Cold.

            “I’m sorry, Mark,” Jack whispered. “I just—”

            “Don’t,” Mark croaked. “Don’t say it.”

            There was a long silence. Jack’s eyes bored into Mark’s, piercing and sad.

            “I’m just not in love with you anymore.”

            It was spoken so quietly that it was little more than a breath.

            Mark’s grip on Jack’s sleeves loosened as his hands shook. He felt like the ground was crumbling from underneath his feet. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to beg. He wanted to convince Jack that they could work everything out. That it would be okay again. But the only word that could make it past the lump in Mark’s throat was “Why?”

            “I…I don’t really know,” Jack said. “it just sort of happened. I guess I fell out of love.”

            “How long?”

            “A month or so. I didn’t know what was happening at first. But I tried, Mark…I tried…I wish this wasn’t happenin’. I’m sorry. Oh, shit, no—Mark I’m sorry, please don’t cry—”

            Mark flinched as he was wrapped in Jack’s arms. He made no move to return the embrace.

            “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I hate seein’ you like this. I don’t—I don’t love you anymore, but…I still care about you. A-and if we can, I still want to be friends.”

            Jack was trembling. Mark slowly wrapped his arms around the smaller man. He didn’t hold on as tightly as he wanted to. He tried not to wonder if this would be the last time they held each other. Instead, he focused on Jack, committing everything about him to memory that he could. The feeling of Jack pressed against him, Jack’s breath on his ear, Jack’s shirt beneath his hands. Mark blinked back his tears.

            “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Yeah, we can still be friends.”

            “Okay,” Jack whispered. “Should I move out?”

            “We won’t be able to keep up with the rent if one of us leaves,” Mark said. He didn’t tell Jack that the idea of living without him scared him more than anything.

            “Right,” Jack said. He started to pull back from the hug, so Mark let his arms fall lamely to his sides. His heart felt hollow. The ring was mocking him.

            “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” Mark said.

            “You don’t have to do that,” Jack started to argue.

            “It’s better if I do,” Mark mumbled. “We’re both gonna be super uncomfortable if we share a bed.”

            Jack sighed. “You’re right. I just feel bad.”

            “It’s fine.”

            They stood there for a few more moments before wordlessly turning towards home. Mark picked up the bag from where he’d put it on the ground when they’d stopped. Normally silences between the were comfortable. This silence, however, was suffocating. Mark kept staring at the ground. He let Jack unlock the door. He put the paper bag of leftovers in the fridge and changed into pajamas while Jack was in the bathroom. The ring fell out of his pocket, clunking against the floor. Mark stared at it for a long moment before snatching it from the floor and shoving it in the pocket of his sweatpants. He grabbed his pillow and a blanket from a trunk at the foot of their bed. Before he headed to the couch, he put the ring in his desk drawer, all the way in the back.

            The living room was colder than Mark remembered. The couch was fairly comfortable, but it was small. It was empty. It didn’t have Jack. Mark returned Jack’s call of “goodnight,” and the apartment went silent. Mark strained his ears, trying to hear Jack’s light snores. They had lulled him to sleep for the past two years. It hit Mark like a punch in the gut that Jack wasn’t his anymore. In fact, he hadn’t really been his for a while.

            “Fuck,” Mark whispered thickly into the dark. “God fucking damn it.” He scrubbed his face with his palm, wiping away the few tears that had leaked out. Mark took a deep, shaky breath, and took out his phone. The lock screen was a picture of Jack on his last birthday. His smile was threatening to split his face in half, and he was standing on a green hill with the ocean behind him, glasses on and wind blowing in his hair. Mark had surprised Jack with a week-long trip to Ireland to visit his family for his birthday. That had been one of the best trips of his life. Jack’s family had welcomed him with open arms. They were friendly and loud with big warm smiles, just like Jack. Mark smiled weakly at the picture before holding the phone close to his chest and curling in on himself.

            The wine and cannoli in the fridge sat forgotten until weeks later, when it had all gone bad and been thrown away.

* * *

 

            “Mark, have you seen my tie? The blue one?”

            “Over the back of your computer chair.”

            Mark listened to Jack scurry around the apartment in a panic from his place on the couch. He paused in his mindless Twitter scrolling to watch Jack pace. The Irishman’s eyes were darting everywhere, like he was looking for something.

            “Glasses are on your head.”

            “Oh for fuck’s—thanks.” Jack put his glasses on and ran a hand through his hair.

            “What’s got you so nervous?” Mark asked,

            “I’m finally going to do it,” Jack said. “I’m goin’ to ask Signe to marry me.”

            “Dude, that’s great!” Mark said with a grin. Jealousy bubbled low and hot in his gut. Jack and Signe had only been together for a little over a year. It had taken them two to—well, they’d never actually gotten engaged.

            “I know!” Jack exclaimed. “But it’s also fuckin’ terrifying! What if I forget what I want to say? What if I drop the ring? What if—”

            “Jack, Jack, you’re fine,” Mark soothed. “It’ll be fine. It doesn’t really matter what you say as long as you mean it. And if you drop the ring in the middle of proposing, it’ll be funny. She’s gonna say yes no matter what. She loves you.”

            “You always know what to say,” Jack said. “Thanks Mark. Really.”

            Mark responded with a smile rather than a verbal answer. Jack resumed his scurrying, but it was less frenzied this time. He was out the door within half an hour, and about two hours after that, a new picture of Signe’s hand with a diamond ring was posted on Jack’s Instagram. “SHE SAID YES!!!!!!!!!” the caption read. Several comments offered congratulations, and the picture already has twenty likes. Mark liked it and left his own comment. He then wrapped a blanket around himself and turned on Netflix.

            Halfway through an episode of _F.R.I.E.N.D.S.,_ his phone buzzed. It was a text from Wade.

            _Are you okay?_

            Mark burst into tears.

~*~*~*~

            “I’ve moved more since living in America than I ever did in Ireland,” Jack remarked as he heaved another box into Mark’s trunk.

            “You just can’t make up your mind,” Mark said.

            “Nothin’ can hold ol’ Jackaboy down!” Jack shouted. Mark laughed, and they got into the car. Jack had already helped Signe move her things into their new house. They’d spent several nights there—they’d chosen new furniture rather than keep their old things. A few exceptions had been made—Jack’s desk, Signe’s favorite chair, her art desk. A lot of stuff was still being put together, but Mark could tell that their house had already become a home.

            “Hey,” Jack said, turning to Mark when they got stuck behind a long line of cars at a red light. “What was that thing you wanted to talk to me about?”

            Mark had completely forgotten. “You remember Tyler, right? You guys met when we went to Cincinnati for Christmas that one year.”

            “Oh yeah,” Jack said, grinning. “He’s a cool dude. What about him?”

            Mark drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and fixed his gaze on the license plate of the car in front of him. “I’m going to be moving in with him and another guy. Ethan, I think.”

            “Cool. Do they already live here then?”

            “…I’m moving to Cincinnati.”

            The car went completely silent.

            “Oh,” Jack said softly.

            “Yeah.”

            “When are you going?”

            “In a couple weeks. Maybe sooner.”

            Jack leaned back against the seat and looked out the window at the other cars inching forwards, anxious to get to their destination. He kept brushing his hair out of his eyes and folding and unfolding his hands, like he often did when he was nervous. Mark could tell Jack wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. Mark didn’t know what to say either.

            “Why so far away?” Jack asked. He still wasn’t looking at Mark.

            “I can’t afford the apartment’s rent, gas money, and food at the same time. I knew I was going to move out of there, I just didn’t know when. I’ve known Tyler basically all my life, so he seemed like a good option,” Mark said. “Plus I miss my family. It’ll be good to be in the same place as them again.”

            “Right,” Jack agreed.

            The speech that Mark had prepared about needing to move on ran through his mind, but he pushed it away. There was no need for this to be overly dramatic. He was getting away from the apartment. From Los Angeles. From Jack. They finally got to the front of the line of cars at the traffic light and could go at a normal speed again. Within a matter of minutes, Mark was pulling into Signe and Jack’s driveway. Signe came out of the house, the screen door slamming shut behind her, the diamond on her engagement ring shining in the sun. The golden wedding band that sat snugly against it glinted. Mark popped the trunk.

            “Hey!” Signe said with a smile. She gave Mark a hug and a kiss on the cheek in greeting. He smiled and nodded before grabbing a few boxes.

            “Just in the living room?” he asked.

            “Sure,” Signe said.  “Don’t knock over the cactus again.” Mark grinned sheepishly and headed into the house. The three of them unloaded the car in no time, and with that, Jack had completely moved out. Upon Jack and Signe’s insistence, Mark ended up staying for lunch.

            “So where in Cincinnati are you moving?” Jack asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

            “You’re moving to Cincinnati?” Signe asked.

            “Yeah,” Mark said. “With my friend Tyler and his friend Ethan. It’s somewhere in the south part of the city, I think.”

            “Aww. We’ll miss you,” Signe said. She patted Mark’s wrist.

            “I’ll miss you guys too,” Mark said with a sad smile. He looked at Jack, who was staring down at his plate while he chewed, silent. What was going through his head?

            “Thanks for lunch you guys. I should get going soon though.” Mark stood up and rinsed his plate in the sink.

            “It was good to see you,” Signe said. Mark smiled and gave her a hug. He walked out, hands in his back pockets. The footsteps behind him told him Jack was following. They both stopped outside of Mark’s car.

            “So,” Jack said.

            Mark shrugged. “So.”

            “You’re goin’?”

            “Yeah.”

            “We’ll miss you. _I’ll_ miss you.”

            “I’ll miss you too.”

            Jack hugged him then, tight and close. Mark hugged back. Jack’s hands were fisted in Mark’s shirt. He hadn’t done that since they’d broken up.

            “I love you,” Mark whispered. “I never stopped.”

            “I know,” Jack whispered back. “I didn’t always know, but I figured it out along the way. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

            “You didn’t. I just wanted to see you happy.”

            “Okay.”

            Mark slipped out of the embrace and got into his car. He rolled the window down once he started it, and Jack folded his arms on the frame, leaning into the car. “Keep in touch, yeah?”

            “Yeah.” Mark imagined texts, emails, Skype calls, phone calls, and every other acceptable form of communication. They’d get less and less frequent until slowly, agonizingly slowly, they stopped altogether. It would be better this way.

            “You’ll come visit?”

            Mark smiled, tears pricking at his eyes. “Goodbye, Jack.”

            Jack swallowed. His eyes were glassy. “Goodbye Mark.” He stood up and shoved his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

            Mark pulled out of the driveway. Jack’s eyes followed him. Mark hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t just leaving Jack behind, but everything he represented: all the memories, love, friendship, and joy they shared; all the pain, grief, loss Mark had experienced. He was leaving behind his first real love and his best friend. Part of him was screaming to not leave, to stay in Los Angeles, to hold fast to Jack and never let go. But he needed this. He needed a fresh start. As much as he loved Jack, he needed to leave, Besides, he’d already said goodbye. Mark drove down the street, ignoring the tears dripping off his nose and down to his chin.

            He didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the longest thing I've ever written! I hope you all enjoyed it. It was hard to write at times because it's so sad, but I had fun with it. I hope you did too :) Thank you for sticking with me during that long hiatus. I adore you all. <3
> 
> (P.S.: listening to House of Memories by Panic! At the Disco while thinking about this fic WILL make you sad.)


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